


Incident Report #72359

by japansace



Series: My Love, We Deserve the Softest Eternity [10]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (like you weren't already pfft), + magic, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Elves, King Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Prince Yuri Plisetsky, Queen Yuuri Katsuki, Violence, but not graphic i promise think lord of the rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22590001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japansace/pseuds/japansace
Summary: Queen Yuuri turned his head—with a scowl—and side-stepped an arrow, which was aimed at him waist-high. He plucked it from the air as it shot past, then studied it in his hand with a bored expression.He leant towards the window. “Someone drop this?” he asked, nonchalant, over the edge.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: My Love, We Deserve the Softest Eternity [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133426
Comments: 53
Kudos: 350





	Incident Report #72359

**Author's Note:**

> I almost posted my grad thesis into the text box, what tHE FUCK
> 
> Ages: 
> 
> Victor: 4270  
> Yuuri: 4230  
> Yuri: 5

It happened during one of the scant times the King and Queen of Woodland were not within a mere arm’s reach of each other.

His Majesty, King Victor, had gone to Sunland to meet with their respective monarchy. He was very reluctant to do so—especially without his ever-faithful partner to accompany him—but it could hardly be helped. The pair had only five mortal years ago taken in Yuri, His Highness, Crown Prince of Woodland, and did not yet feel ready to bring him outside of the protective reaches of the enchanted forest.

And thus, King Victor went off alone, to be received by Sunland.

I was with His Majesty when the incident occurred. We were in the war room: Queen Yuuri was stood before the window, in profile; His Highness was balanced on the queen’s hip, with a thumb in his mouth. He was almost asleep, by the looks of it: teetering on the edge, little legs swinging back and forth in a gentle rhythm. I sat at the long table, writing notes as the queen dictated them to me. Two other elves kept post at the door, still as the trees.

His Majesty was just about to get into the business with Sunland when I saw his talent engage, eyes flashing reddest red. He turned his head—with a scowl—and side-stepped an arrow, which was aimed at him waist-high. He plucked it from the air as it shot past, then studied it in his hand with a bored expression.

He leant towards the window. “Someone drop this?” he asked, nonchalant, over the edge.

“Your Majesty, watch out—!”

An orc crawled over the precipice, mangled and snaggle-toothed, making his formal entrance into the room. He dropped down to the floor with a snarl, a hand reaching for his belt to procure a dagger. The guards at the door had made their way over by then, but before they could make any move to defend, Queen Yuuri hiked His Highness up higher on his hip and drew a sword out of one of the guard’s scabbards himself, beheading the threat in a singular clean sweep.

Speaking from millennia of combat experience, it was perhaps one of the finest maneuvers I’d ever had the privilege to witness.

The queen was speaking before the head had even stopped rolling upon the floor: “There’s more. I can sense them. Five—no, six, seven.” He then ordered one of the guards to go for reinforcements and the other to accompany him to the throne room.

When he was asked as to the logic behind this, he merely stated, “Even if I couldn't read their minds, their intentions are abundantly clear: They’re after Yuri and I, and the throne room is the only chamber that has covered windows and a single entrance, which is easily defensible.”

“And Prince Yuri—?”

The queen held the boy’s head to his shoulder, from where he was starting to squirm. “He’s safest with me.”

We came upon two other orcs in the hall: a small, shifty one and the other, a lanky giant. The large one was easily incapacitated by my fellow guard’s foliage talent, bound to the wall by a smattering of vines, then driven through the heart with a knife. But the small one was quick, ducking out of the botanical snare to lunge at His Majesty and His Highness.

Hands occupied, Queen Yuuri merely kicked at the thing, then stared the beast down with eyes of liquid flame.

At once, the orc began to convulse, striking out at an invisible foe. “N-no! No, stay away!” he screeched. He gripped at his head, drew claw marks upon his own skin. “It—It’s after me! Make it stop! Make it _stop!_ ”

I didn’t allow his feeble protesting to go on, driving my own dagger into his heart while he continued to jump at shadows upon the floor. The hallucinations courtesy of His Majesty ceased to exist with the end to his pulse, jaw going slack and eyes, unseeing.

The hallway seemed perpetual, but the throne room did eventually come into sight. I held open the door as Queen Yuuri hurried in, marching straight to his husband’s seat to deposit His Highness upon the throne, cooing low in his throat when the prince began to whine. “Stay right here, Yura, all right? We’ll go to bed in a moment.” He stood to face the door, shoulders drawn apart, anticipatory. The only aspect about him that didn’t remain still were his eyes, darting back and forth as though jumping from thought to thought.

“It’s coming,” he merely said, after an apparent eternity, and widened his stance. “Only one left. But I don’t know from where.” If possible, his eyes grew even brighter, trying to hone in on the threat.

“Mama?”

The queen's eyes faltered, for only the briefest moment.

The stained-glass tapestry directly behind the thrones shattered, shards raining down from the window as a single orc swooped in. Prince Yuri cried out, holding his arms above his head, but it was clear from even a cursory look that the noise had been the only thing to affect him.

Queen Yuuri didn’t seem to notice though—or didn’t care to differentiate between physical and emotional pain.

“ _How dare you!”_ he screamed, putting all his weight into a strike with his proffered sword that was caught by the orc’s own. “Die!”

The orc stood her ground though, smirking from behind her saber. It was a more delicate weapon than I had known orcs to have—stolen then, I surmised. Pilfered from an elf or else picked off an unlucky human. She pushed forward against Queen Yuuri’s attack, muscles bulging from underneath dwarven chainmail—no doubt another spoil of war.

“Make me, _elf_ ,” she spat, inelegantly kicking out at His Majesty’s feet. My fellow guard and I took this as our chance, winding vines from the wall to ensnare her; but when they wrapped around her biceps, she merely brought her arms down, slicing the plants to bits. She had modified it, somehow: the chainmail. Made it sharp and inhospitable on the outside but easy to move about from within.

Our foliage would be useless, then.

Queen Yuuri’s eyes glinted from behind his steel. The orc wasn’t unfazed by this, gritting her teeth at whatever horrors His Majesty was projecting onto her, but she didn’t care to pay it any mind, advancing on the queen.

He stumbled back, and she followed. He feinted left, but she checked him right. A back-swing of her sword caught him on the dull side of the blade, pushing him aside—towards the thrones rather than the door. But His Majesty was most probably vying for the position anyway, as it was the best place to be in, strategically: standing between the orc and his Yuri. He appeared all the more confident for it, going on the offensive once again when he was sure the prince was tucked away safely behind him.

But then all at once, Queen Yuuri was struck still. Behind red eyes, an expression of horror overtook his expression, just as the orc’s own countenance screwed up in a wicked smirk.

The orc took one thunderous step forward—and gave a thrust.

My fellow guard and I were upon her: one on each arm, blood wrung from our fingers where they met that accursed chainmail. But the blood rushed worse even still below us: where the orc’s sword had pierced through His Majesty’s side.

I hazarded a look over my shoulder, at the prince.

He was slumped against the throne, little chest undulating with breath. Just above where his head had been, the tip of the blade was forced through the chair, splintering the wood. He looked up at his mother with fright in his eyes, tracing the queen’s frame where blood flowed, pooling upon the floor.

_Duck._

It was an unquestioned order, an inevitability. Hardly had the guard and I put our heads down before the orc’s own was rolling, knocked clean from the shoulders. She didn’t expect it, if her expression was anything to go by; but she’d have plenty of time to think about where she had gone wrong, in whatever afterlife lied in store for orcs.

The rest of her body fell before the thrones, and with it, the queen dropped to one knee, panting.

“Mama!”

“I’m all right, baby,” the queen said, gathering the prince in his arms. He felt around with one hand behind the boy’s back, blindly feeling for the sword, and yanked it out of himself with a small grunt to throw it aside where it clattered dully against the ground. “All is well.”

“I—I did as you told me to,” the prince said, sniveling. “I went do-down low, ju-just like you said.”

“Yes, you did such a good job.” The queen held him all the tighter, if that was possible. “Such a good boy for Mama.”

The prince sniffled and sobbed until he at last tired himself out, lying limp upon his mother’s shoulder and was once again hoisted up into the other’s arms. My fellow guard and I began to put up a fuss at this, but the queen merely looked at us, with a pointed red mien.

_It’s not as though I can die from something so trivial._

And it was true enough.

An investigation followed of course—and the king was contacted immediately, via messenger hawk. One could of thought he was a shadow talent, what with how quickly he turned back up in Woodland, having no words or glances for anyone aside from his beloved. Queen Yuuri was rolling his eyes at him, when I came into their apartments later to deliver a report.

“As you can very well see, Vitya, it’s already healed.”

“There’s a scar—”  
  
“A _scratch._ ”

“I’ll kill them—every last one of them, if I have to. Raze their villages and drive a stake through each one should they even dare to _look at you_ again.”

The queen only rolled his eyes once more—though admittedly not entirely looking displeased at the notion—and ran a hand through Prince Yuri’s hair, where he was tucked against his side. “If you wish.”

“Papa?”

The king’s eyes lowered, to his son. “Yes, my dear?”

“Are you mad at Mama?”

“I could never be.”

“Good. Because Mama kicked _ass_.”

“ _Yura!_ ” King Victor gasped, faux-dramatic. He stooped, taking the boy’s shoulders between both hands. “Where have you come to learn such words?”

“Auntie Mari.”  
  
“Ah, of course! I should have known.”

I left my report on the front room table, without a word. From the corner of my eye, I caught the queen looking at me with knowing red eyes and a smile from over his partner and son as they continued to banter, a finger held to his mouth to indicate quiet.

A secret, then. Just one of many, as a guard for the house of Woodland.

What was one more?

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case anyone wasn't already convinced Yuuri is a badass.


End file.
